


The Better Feelings of My Heart

by brucexselina



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, The 100 (TV) Season 4, and as always, but also talkin, but make it so there's no Praimfaya, i said season four, in the third chapter they're gonna do more than just talk, they drinkin, y'all picking up what i'm putting down?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27907852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucexselina/pseuds/brucexselina
Summary: Two times in which Bellamy and Clarke get drunk in front of one another and say a bit more than they would if they were sober.And the one time they actually talk about it.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "but that's just what i needed" by thearkdelinquents
> 
> First multi-chapter fic folks. Let's see how it goes.

Any other day, the loud laughter and stumbling, drunk kids would’ve annoyed Bellamy, but he can’t find that annoyance within him today. For two months, they have worked relentlessly to shut down the nuclear reactors. By shutting down all of the them, they were able stop any increase in radiation, thus stopping Praimfaya all together. _Praimfaya can kiss my ass_ , Bellamy thought to himself.

This morning, a group of twelve came back from shutting down the last reactor. Tonight, they were celebrating. Bellamy was currently sitting by the fire, nursing his second cup of moonshine. He actually wanted to remember tonight, and getting blackout drunk was certainly not the way to do that. Everyone else, though, seems to think otherwise. All around him, people are throwing back cups of moonshine like there is no tomorrow. _Funny,_ he thinks, considering they are celebrating _because_ there is a guarantee of tomorrow. 

He scans the crowd, laughing to himself when he sees that Jasper has challenged Monty to a dance battle. Bellamy’s glad to see the two friends bonding again. They deserve it. 

Without him realizing it, a figure drops down next to him in front of the fire. 

“Hi.” Clarke’s cheery voice chimes to his right.

“Hey.” He says, slightly taken aback from her light tone. Since they’ve landed, he’s always wanted Clarke to relax, let loose. It’s good to see she’s finally done just that.

Turning more to face her, Bellamy takes in her flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. 

Laughing slightly, Bellamy says, “You’re drunk.”

“I am not!” Clarke replies, mock-outraged. Bellamy gives her a leveled-look, and she concedes. 

“Alright, maybe a wee bit.” She says while using her thumb and index finger to show him how much a “wee bit” is. She puts her hand back down, and continues. “I just wanted to have some fun.”

“Fun looks good on you.” 

“Hell yeah it does. You know what else looks good on me?” She asks. Before he could give her an answer (though he has no clue what he would even say) she takes her empty cup and puts it on top of her head, striking a pose. _I think she’s more than a wee bit drunk._

Bellamy laughs, still watching her as she takes the cup off her head with a satisfied nod, and says, “I think you’ve just invented a new fashion trend.” 

Clarke lets out a laugh, and then quickly stands up.

“I love this song!” She exclaims. Earlier in the night, Jasper hooked up Maya’s iPod to a speaker, and now the whole Ark population was listening to whatever songs Jasper queued up. 

Clarke takes Bellamy’s half empty cup, sets it down on the ground, and takes both of his hands in hers, pulling him up. 

“Bellamy,” she says while jostling his hands with her own, “we have to dance.”

“I don’t know about that-“

“Come on! We have to. It’s the law.” She states seriously, as if it actually is the law. 

“I don’t usually follow the rules. And neither do you.”

“Well, now we do. Now _come on._ ”

She lets go of his right hand and walks ahead of him, dragging him to the dance floor by his left hand. He’s really not much of a dancer, but Clarke _is_ cute in her inebriated state, so he figures why the hell not. 

When they reach the dance floor, she turns around to face him, still holding his left hand, and gives him a bright smile. Holding his hand, combined with her radiant smile causes Bellamy’s heart to stammer in his chest. Is he twelve? She’s just holding his hand and smiling at him. He needs to get a grip.

Before he can chastise himself any further, Clarke starts to dance. 

If this were a movie, he supposes the girl would dance in a sultry type of way, almost like she was a siren calling to all men around her. Not his Clarke, though. 

Clarke currently has one foot in the hand not occupied by his own while simultaneously shimmying (or trying to) with her upper body.

He couldn’t be smiling harder right now if he tried. “What are you doing?” He asks while laughing. 

“I’m dancing!” She replies, still holding her foot and trying to shimmy. 

“Oh is that what this is? Looks like you’re trying summon something. Like a rain dance.” He teases. 

She releases her foot and halts the movement of her upper body (but she’s still holding his hand, something he’s trying to keep his cool about).

“Okay, let’s see what you got.” She says while gesturing to his body with her free hand. 

“You wanna see what I got?”

“I do.”

With their hands still linked, Bellamy takes a step back, and then spins her towards him. She squeals in delight as the momentum carries her to come crashing into his chest. She looks up at his eyes, the dazed look due to her drunkenness still there, but now accompanied by joy. 

“Again.” She says happily. So, that’s what Bellamy does. And again. And again. And then one more time for good measure. 

“I think that’s enough. Don’t want you puking on my favorite shirt.” Bellamy tells her with a grin.

“This is my favorite shirt of yours, too.” She says. For the first time that night, she releases his left hand, opting to put both of them on his shoulders instead. “Makes you look big and strong.” She says while running her hands over his shoulders. 

“Big and strong, huh?” He asks, trying to keep his voice steady. She’s just touching him on the shoulders, for Christ sake, but they’re usually not so touchy-feely towards one another. 

“Yup.” She says nonchalantly. Then, a look of excitement crosses her face. Bellamy’s trying to figure out what caused her sudden change of mood when she says, “Incoming!” throwing her arms over his shoulders and jumping into his arms. 

“Woah woah woah.” He quickly says as she wraps her legs around his waist. He staggers back a bit due to the sudden weight, but regains his balance and wraps his arms around her back. 

“Uh.” he starts, looking around to see if anyone’s watching them. A few are, which he tries to ignore. 

Awkwardly trying to adjust so he doesn’t drop her, he asks, “You’re doing this because?”

Instead of answering, she nuzzles her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. 

“Alright,” he mutters, “let’s get you to bed.” 

“Bedtime.” She sing-songs while still having her face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

As Bellamy starts walking, she lifts her head and waves one arm out to everyone around them. “See you guys tomorrow! Jasper, I see you over there tearing it up on the dance floor, looking good! And Miller-“

“Geez, Clarke, try not to blow out my eardrum, yeah?” He interrupts her parting speech, still walking away from the party and towards her room. 

She giggles, says a simple “sorry” and places her head right back in the crook of his neck again. 

The noise from the party becomes a dull hum once they enter the Ark’s interior. There’s practically no one inside, everyone still celebrating their escape from death.

“You ready to walk now?” He asks her. He asks not because he wants to let go, but figures she probably wouldn’t be doing this if she was sober. For him, carrying Clarke, feeling her body pressed entirely against his, is something he could do for the rest of his life. If they didn’t destroy the reactors, and Praimfaya was knocking on their door tomorrow, he would be able to die happily. 

“I’m good right here, thanks though.” She hums.

“I’m good right here, too.” He whispers to himself. 

The rest of their walk back to Clarke’s room is met with silence. Other than a few occasional sighs from Clarke, they don’t say anything else. 

When they reach her room, Bellamy struggles with trying to open the door while still holding Clarke in his arms, but he eventually gets it open. 

Shuffling in, he eyes her made-up bed and gently places Clarke on top of the covers. When he tries to pull away, she tugs on his neck with her arms and his back with her legs, refusing to let go. The momentum of her pull brings him abruptly forward, but he stops the oncoming collision of their bodies by placing his hands on both sides of her head. 

Only a whisper of space is between them. “Time to let go.” He tries to keep his voice light, but being this close to her is fucking up his brain. He’s refusing to meet her gaze, instead staring very intently at her chin, because if he does he doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

“Look at me.” She whispers. Her breath hits his face, and that only reminds him of one thing. _She’s drunk._

“Clarke, let go.” He says more forcefully than he originally intended. He can’t deal with this right now. He was happy to joke around with her on the dance floor, but this is too much. 

She barely loosens her limbs from around him before he rips himself away, swiftly standing next to her bed. She turns on her side to face him with wide, blue eyes.

“Always trying to run away from me.” She says a bit sadly. “That’s okay, though. I love you enough for the both of us.” With that, she closes her eyes and turns, facing the wall with her back to him.

What just happened? The silence in the room is filled by her soft snores. Bellamy looks around the room as if the answer to this situation is written on the walls. Upon realizing that he is still standing, somewhat creepily he supposes, over Clarke’s bed, he turns around and walks to the door. With his hand on the door knob, he chances one last look over his shoulder at Clarke. The moonlight is creating a soft glow in the room, hitting Clarke’s blonde hair and casting it in an ethereal aura. 

_It’s just the opposite,_ he thinks to himself, turning the door knob and walking out. _I don’t run away._

 _I can’t stay away._

-

Bellamy walks through the mess hall in the morning, amused by all the hungover people. It’s impossible to look anywhere and not see someone clutching their head from a pounding headache. He spots Raven, Monty, and Clarke all sitting at a table with tired expressions on their faces. He walks over and sits in the seat next to Raven. 

“You guys look like shit.” He greets.

“Bellamy Blake, always a charmer.” Raven mutters from his side. 

“Damn right.” He replies, chancing a look up at Clarke. He hasn’t seen her since last night and doesn’t really know what to say to her. 

Clarke looks amused at Raven's and his interaction. Upon realizing his attention is on her, she says, “Raven’s right. The only memory I have of last night is you spinning me around on the dance floor. Even that is a little blurry.” She states with a laugh. 

_Oh._ She doesn’t remember anything. That’s cool. That’s fine. It’s not like she told him she loves him or anything. Trying to clear his thoughts, he gives her a forced laugh and says, “Only could spin you a few times before you projectile vomited everywhere.”

“Holy shit, please tell me I didn’t.”

“You didn’t. I was just kidding.”

She gives him an exasperated smile, and then Monty starts talking about how he actually _did_ projectile vomit on Jasper, Miller, _and_ Harper. Bellamy tunes out of the story. His thoughts are too preoccupied by one thing. 

_She doesn’t remember._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: What's that I see? A wild Bellamy Blake! Drunk off his ass!


	2. Chapter 2

The next party is a week later. The Ice Nation, courtesy of King Roan, invited all of Arkadia to celebrate the destruction of the reactors. During their two month process of stopping the oncoming death wave, Ice Nation members showed Arkadians where exactly the reactors were after Clarke told Roan they would all be dead in a few months. Roan, surprisingly, was willing to help, claiming “he hates the thought of dying more than working with the Thirteenth Clan.” 

Destroying the reactors gave the opportunity for Ice Nation and Arkadians to bond in a love-hate type of way. Now, they were all celebrating together over their shared efforts. 

Clarke is being smarter during this celebration. She decides it’s probably _not_ the best idea to chug five cups of moonshine in under three minutes this time. It’s really not a good idea to drink that much ever again, considering she told Bellamy-

 _Stop._ She’s not going to think about that right now. 

Clarke tries to bring herself back to the present. She’s currently standing by the table where they just finished eating a feast (grounder food was different, but _damn_ if it wasn’t good) and is gazing at the festivities. She spots Raven, who is animatedly explaining to an Ice Nation woman what it’s like to spacewalk. Clarke smiles to herself, happy that Raven can talk about spacewalking without any lingering traces of sadness because of Finn. Shifting her gaze, she spots Murphy, who challenged an Ice Nation man to an arm wrestling match. She can’t help but laugh when Murphy demands a rematch after losing within the first two seconds. Looking elsewhere, she makes brief eye contact with Monty, who is also looking fondly over the celebration. 

Making his way over, Monty greets her by saying, “I still can’t believe Bellamy and Roan. I start to think about something else, but then I remember them downing cup after cup and start laughing again.”

 _Ah, yes. Bellamy and Roan and their need to be the more ‘dominant male.’_ Whoever organized the seating arrangements for the feast apparently was in the mood for chaos. Instead of sitting at the head of the table, like Clarke thought he would, Roan was sat next to Clarke and across from Bellamy. While everyone enjoyed the egregious amounts of food surrounding them, Bellamy and Roan were engaged in a silent drinking battle. Their cups of wine seemed to magically refill once they finished, consequently making it so their ‘battle’ was never-ending. She lost count after they finished their fourteenth cup. 

“And now we get to deal with two wine drunk grown men.” She replies.

“Like either of them would ever admit to that.” Monty continues, lowering his voice in imitation of the two men, “I don’t get drunk, it’s beneath me.” He mocks, causing them to laugh. 

Once their laughter subsides, Clarke asks Monty, “Where is Bellamy anyway?”

“Over there.” Monty replies, pointing to a spot behind them. Turning around, Clarke sees Bellamy leaning against a building structure, talking to Miller. He’s leaning heavily on the structure, as if he’s struggling to keep himself standing. 

“Shall we go see how His Highness is fairing?” She asks Monty in a faux-haughty voice, gesturing towards Bellamy and Miller.

“We shall.” Monty replies in the same tone.

On the walk over, Clarke spots Roan sitting by a blazing fire. Even though he’s sitting down, staying upright doesn’t seem difficult for him, unlike Bellamy. 

Nudging Monty to look in Roan’s direction, she whispers, “Guess we know who the alpha male is.” 

“It would be a shame if Bellamy were to learn this piece of information.” Monty replies with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Clarke barks out a laugh. “I like the way you think, my friend.” 

Seeing them walking over, Bellamy gives them a wide smile. He opens his mouth to say something, but Miller interrupts him by stating, “Thank god you guys are here. I can only babysit him for so long.” 

Bellamy looks as though he didn’t hear a word Miller said, still smiling at Clarke and Monty’s arrival. 

“How’s he holding up?” Monty asks Miller. 

“Well,” Miller starts, then looks to Bellamy with a laugh. Bellamy’s fully leaning against the building now, staring up at the night sky with a look of pure wonder on his face. “Let’s just say I thought he was gonna be a sad drunk, not whatever _this_ is.” Miller finishes. 

All three of them turn to Bellamy, seeing if he has anything to add, but he stays silent, still staring up at the dark sky. Clarke glances at Roan again, thinks _what the hell, let’s have some fun_ and looks to Bellamy once more. 

“Sorry to break it to you, Bellamy, but I think Roan won your drinking competition.” Clarke teases. 

Bellamy’s gaze immediately drops from the sky, now directly on Clarke. His eyes look glossy, and his cheeks have a rosy tint. Clarke’s grin becomes wider upon taking in his appearance. She’s never seen him like this before. _He looks so cute._

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Bellamy slurs. Damn, he is _really_ drunk.

“Oh, yeah? You look like you’re struggling to keep standing up.” Miller quips, slugging Bellamy on the shoulder. 

Bellamy swats away Miller’s hand, asking, “Can a man struggling to stand up do this?” With that, Bellamy abruptly leans away from the building, making to do whatever it is he plans on doing, but instead stumbles over his own feet and face plants into the dirt. 

Clarke, Monty, and Miller are stunned into silence, not knowing whether to laugh or help him up. Before any of them can make a decision, Bellamy lets out a groan. Slowly rolling over so that his back is on the ground instead of his front, Bellamy wheezes out, “I meant to do that.” 

Monty and Miller let out boisterous laughs as Clarke moves to crouch down next to him. 

“Are you okay?” She asks while trying to keep in her own laughter. 

Bellamy turns his attention onto her, still laying on the ground with the dazed look still in his eyes. “Depends, did that impress you?”

“Did tripping over your own two feet and falling face first onto the ground impress me?” She asks with a small laugh. 

“Did it?”

“Was that your goal?”

“Yup. Always is.” 

Bellamy still has the clouded look in his eyes, but now there is something else. Something _more._ Something like, if she didn’t know him better, _love._ But she does know him, and she knows he doesn’t feel that way for her. 

Instead of answering his original question, she opts for, “Alright, let’s get you up.” 

From her crouched position, Clarke puts both hands on each of his shoulders and pulls so he’s sitting up. “Good so far?” She asks him with her hands still there. 

Without answering, Bellamy places his own hands on top of Clarke’s, giving hers a light squeeze and closing his eyes.

“I like this.” He murmurs, eyes still closed. Pretending like he said nothing, she flips over her hands, interlocking his fingers with her own, and hauls him into a standing position. The process is a bit of a struggle, considering she is a lot smaller than he is, but she eventually gets him into an upright position. Still holding hands, she looks up into his eyes. _There it is again. That look in his eyes. That look that looks like-_

She hears snickering behind her. Ripping her hands away from Bellamy’s, she spins around, forgetting they had an audience. Monty and Miller’s faces are painted in amusement. She gives them a harsh look, not wanting to be mocked for whatever just happened between her and Bellamy, and Monty and Miller hold up their hands in mock surrender. 

“Looks like you’re on babysitting duty now, boss.” Miller says to Clarke. 

Without waiting for a response, Miller grabs Monty’s arm and pulls him away, leaving Clarke and Bellamy and going back into the throng of celebrating people. 

“I don’t need a babysitter!” Bellamy calls out to Miller’s retreating form. 

“Yes, you do!” Miller calls back without turning around. 

“Sorry, looks like you’re stuck with me.” He says, giving her a side-ways glance. 

“I don’t mind. I like being around drunk you, it’s fun.” 

“Who said I was drunk? Do I look drunk?” He asks, turning to face her fully. He widens his eyes, as if that’s evidence enough that he isn’t, but it gives the opposite effect. His eyes are still glossy and his speech is still a bit slurred. 

“Extremely, _and_ you just took a nosedive into the dirt because you couldn’t walk properly. I think it’s safe to say you are drunk.”

He huffs out a breath, but instead of answering he proclaims, “I want to sit down again. Standing’s too difficult.” 

“By all means, unless you need my help doing that too.” She teases. He sticks out his tongue in response. _Damn, maybe I really am babysitting._

He unceremoniously sits down with his back against the structure he was leaning on previously, pulling up his knees and resting his forearms on them. Clarke sits down a foot away from him to his left, matching his position. The party is still going on in front of them, smiles adorning everyone’s faces. 

This is it. This is the moment Clarke has been waiting for since they landed on this terrible, beautiful planet. _Peace._ There’s no more war, no oncoming death wave. They can finally just _be._

Clarke looks over at Bellamy to see if he feels the same, only to find that he is already looking at her. His expression is so soft, so open. He looks beautiful. 

She worries she said that out loud when he murmurs a soft “beautiful” while still gazing at her, but realizes she didn’t say anything. He’s talking about _her._

Clarke quickly looks forward again, opting to look at the celebration instead of Bellamy. She reminds herself that he’s drunk. He would’t be saying this if he was sober because he doesn’t actually _think_ she is beautiful when he’s sober. He’s just confused right now. 

From her peripheral, she can tell that he is still looking at her. 

“ _Psssst. Pssssssst._ " 

“Are you really _pssst_ -ing me right now?” Clarke asks while giggling, turning her head to look at him once more. He has a faux-serious expression on his face. She can tell he’s not actually serious because the corners of his mouth are lifted, as if he’s trying to smother a smile, and his eyes are dancing with amusement. 

“I have a secret to tell you.” He dramatically whispers.

“What is it?” She whispers back, playfulness coating her tone. Drunk Bellamy may be her favorite Bellamy, he’s _adorable._

“I want to kiss you.”

Okay, she no longer likes drunk Bellamy. “No, you don’t.” She whispers once more, though the playfulness in her voice is gone. 

“Yes, I do.” He states matter-of-factly. 

“Bellamy, stop. Please.” Clarke puts her head in her hands, not being able to look at him anymore. 

“What’s the matter? Do you not want to kiss me?” He doesn’t sound playful anymore either. He just sounds sad. 

Rather than answering, she rubs the heels of her palms into her eyes and takes a long, deep breath.

He has no idea how much she wants to kiss him. She wants to all the time, as if it is an innate need deep within her soul. Unlike him, though, she wants to do it when she’s sober, not drunk. 

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He tells her gently.

“You didn’t upset me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” 

Their silence is filled with the noise of the ongoing celebration. Their sullen mood being the exact opposite mood of the party would be funny if Clarke wasn’t so miserable. Hearing Bellamy say he wants to kiss her, something she’s been wanting him to do for a while now, would make her happy if he actually meant it. Right now, him asking her that with his drunk-addled mind just makes her sad. 

“Do you want to talk about something else?” He tries. 

“Like what?” If he is trying to move past his confession, then so will she. 

“Not sure. I just don’t like seeing you unhappy.” 

“I’m not _unhappy_ , Bellamy.”

“But you’re not happy.”

“How could I not be happy right now? This celebration,” she says, gesturing towards the crowd in front of them, “is the epitome of happiness.”

“ _They_ might be happy, but are you?” He pushes. 

“Yes, I am _happy_! Okay? That good enough for you?”

“She said angrily.” He jibes. 

She doesn’t laugh. No part of of this is funny to her. Babysitting duty fucking sucks. 

“Can you look at me? Just for one second?” Jesus, he’s _relentless._

She reluctantly turns her head to the side, meeting his gaze. For all his preaching of happiness, he sure doesn’t look it himself. 

“I’m sorry, Clarke. I only want you to be happy.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“That’s not true. I told you I wanted to kiss you, and that upset you. That’s what I’m sorry for.” So much for moving past his confession.

“I already told you, that didn’t upset me.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

“Why does this matter to you so much?”

“It _matters_ because _you_ matter to _me._ And I thought-” He cuts himself off before he can finish his sentence, clamping his mouth shut and facing forward. 

“You thought what?” She asks, poking him on the arm to try and regain his attention. He turns to face her again, and for the first time that night the haziness in his eyes is practically gone. It’s been replaced by a certain clarity, as if he is truly seeing her. 

“I thought you would want to kiss me back. Especially after what you said.” 

After what she said? 

_Oh._

_'I love you enough for the both of us.'_

Right. _That._

She also said she didn’t remember saying that. Which was, obviously, a lie. Looks like she’s going to have to keep up this lie a bit longer than she thought.

“After what I said?” She asks, trying to keep the panic from her voice. 

“Oh yeah, that’s right. You don’t _remember._ ” He replies, thunking his head on the structure behind them. He continues, now looking up at the sky, saying, “I’ll refresh your memory. You told me I always run away from you, which is not true, and that you love me. But, you insinuated that I _don’t_ love you, which is also not true. It actually couldn’t possibly be farther from the truth.”

Not waiting for an answer, Bellamy eyes droop closed. His breathing becomes steady and deep. 

He’s _sleeping_ ? 

He just implied he loves her and immediately after he takes a _nap_ ?

With a now snoring Bellamy next to her, Clarke shifts her gaze up, staring at the star-filled sky. _Any advice on what to do_? She asks, practically begs, the stars.

They don't answer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go folks.  
> Next chapter: Bellamy and Clarke finally ~talk~ about their feelings, what a novel concept.


End file.
